Mistletoe and Mayhem
by mrspencil
Summary: A collection of responses to Hades' and Spockologist's December Calendar Challenge. December 31:Holmes and Watson's New Year's resolutions.
1. Mistletoe

_a/n: Responses to a December Calendar Challenge; devised by Hades Lord of the Dead. This first prompt is from sagredo:-_

_"mistletoe; as a poison." _

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_A drabble in verse._

* * *

><p><strong>Mistletoe<strong>

* * *

><p>Blackmail;<p>

Such a pitiless crime.

The grip on the victim relentlessly tightens;

She pays every time.

~0~

Exposed;

Every secret laid bare.

The victim diminished by every dark detail

He threatens to share

~0~

Mistletoe;

Supreme parasite.

Roots penetrate straight to the heart of the host;

Drink deep and hold tight.

~0~

She studies

The mistletoe bough.

A life, looking over her shoulder at shadows,

Unless she acts now.

~0~

Crime scene:

Spilled cup on the floor.

A body, sprawled lifeless, his features contorted;

Blackmailer no more.

~0~

No words

Really need to be said.

Holmes glances from teacup to mistletoe bough,

Freshly cut, overhead.

~0~

* * *

><p><em>an 2: European mistletoe is poisonous, causing, amongst other things, abdominal symptoms and convulsions and can prove to be fatal._


	2. Beguile

_a/n: a challenge from spockologist-221B:beguile-_

_221B format as devised by KCS._

_Contains spoilers for "The Adventure of the Illustrious Client" I appear to be following a "mess with Victorian womenfolk at your peril" theme so far :-)_

_POV of Miss Kitty Winter, biding her time outside the house of Baron Gruner..._

* * *

><p><strong> Beguile<strong>

* * *

><p>Watching from the shadows, I can see him through the window;<p>

Instinctively, I shiver at the profile on display.

Clutching tight my parcel, I observe his every movement,

And regard the day I met him as my darkest, bleakest day.

~0~

I remember the excitement when I captured his attention;

The joy on learning I, alone, had caught his roving eye.

I was blind to his intentions and the depths to which he'd drag me.

I will rue that fateful meeting till the moment when I die.

~0~

I was trapped, before I knew it, in a life of degradation;

An abused, corrupted shadow of the girl I used to be.

I witnessed darker horrors than I ever dreamed existed;

Saw more evil than a human soul was ever meant to see.

~0~

I tried so hard to warn her of his true, repellent nature;

Explaining how I'd learned the harshest lesson, far too late.

He had her in his clutches, and she would not heed my warning;

Which is why I hide in shadows, watching carefully, and wait.

~0~

At last, the opportunity to step out from the shadows,

And act for those he ruined with soft words and cobra smile.

My aim is sure and certain as I throw the burning liquid;

It won't be quite so easy now to flatter and beguile.

~o~


	3. Lost

_a/n:Prompt from DetectiveAtWork-Holmes gets lost in the woods with Watson (supposed to be funny)-_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_POV of Watson, then Holmes, then Watson, then Holmes..._

* * *

><p><strong>Lost <strong>

* * *

><p>"Admit it, my dear fellow, we've been going round in circles;<p>

In fact, to tell the truth, I think we're absolutely lost.

You know I have no issue with your constant thirst for knowledge,

But your detour from the path, to search for clues, was at a cost.

The woods are dark and deep; to cap it all, it's started raining;

We should have eaten hours ago; I'm hungry and I'm cold.

Of course, I'm right behind you, and we'll make it through together

But, my leg is playing up, we're in a fix, if truth be told."

~o~

"My dear Watson, just regard this as another grand adventure!

The woods will not defeat us, we'll get safely home, dear chap!

Although, perhaps, instead of several test tubes and a text book;

I should have brought a large umbrella, compass, and a map.

And, yes, I should have left a note to say where we were going

So someone (Mrs Hudson) could devise a rescue plan.

Just lean upon my arm, and carry on, a little longer,

We need to find some shelter from this rainstorm, if we can."

~o~

"I'm sorry, Holmes, of course, I didn't really mean to grumble;

We've dealt with worse scenarios than this, a hundred times.

And, yes, despite the weather ( now, I do believe it's sleeting ),

There's nowhere I would rather be, than out here, solving crimes."

~o~

"Look, Watson, here's the clearing, where this long excursion started;

This means, thank God, our endless woodland tour is at an end!

A cab ride home, a change of clothes, a welcome blazing fire.

You've earned a meal at Simpson's, too; my soggy, loyal friend."

~o~

(This tale, unlike the first two, has no vengeful lady featured;

It seems a shame to not include a single one at all.

So, picture Mrs Hudson, as she spies the heaps of clothing,

And the trails of mud and water on her freshly polished hall.)

~0~


	4. Cold

_a/n: prompt from Deb Zorski-cold-_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_"Revenge is a dish best served cold." old proverb._

_I have borrowed the rhyme pattern from a non Sherlock Holmes poem I wrote a few years ago (and two of the lines.)_

_POV of the abominable wife of Ricoletti of the club-foot (mentioned in "The Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual.")_

* * *

><p><strong>Cold<strong>

* * *

><p>I'm a vengeful Victorian lady;<p>

My husband, alas, is in jail.

It was Holmes who had made sure

His crimes were all paid for;

And our schemes to make money would fail.

~0~

I constantly think of my husband;

Alone, in his bleak prison cell.

For fifteen long years

I have shed many tears

For my spouse (and that money, as well.)

~0~

To add to my sense of injustice;

My name was in print; I had heard.

In "The Strand" was a page

Which suffused me with rage.

"Abominable"; just one word!

~o~

I am not really one to hold grudges;

But I think that detective should pay.

Revenge, I am told,

Is a dish best served cold;

He'll be sorry he got in my way!

~0~

I have studied his habits and movements;

Made notes on each foible and whim.

I have learned all I can

Of the heart of this man,

And what actions might devastate him.

~0~

I could burn down his Baker Street lodgings;

He wouldn't be happy with that.

I could slander his mother,

Or blackmail his brother,

Or murder his landlady's cat.

~0~

Or, of course, there's his loyal companion.

A kidnap; a ransom demand!

He might even pay double,

With Watson in trouble.

(And I haven't forgotten "The Strand")

~0~

If, by chance, Holmes refused to oblige me;

My response would be chillingly clear.

I'd announce my ambition

To kill a physician;

And Watson would just disappear.

~0~

This would not be too hard to accomplish;

I know what could act as my bait.

I could simply pretend

I was nearing the end;

Send a note to his clinic...and wait.

~0~

When he rushed to my aid, I'd be ready,

With gun, ether, shackles and key.

I would make Holmes regret he

Had crossed Ricoletti,

And regret he had ever crossed me!

~0~

* * *

><p><em>later...<em>

I penned my sad plea for assistance;

A boy, passing by, took my note.

As I sounded so sickly;

I was sure he'd come quickly;

Once he'd read every word that I wrote.

~o~

I waited, and peered through the window;

How could he resist my sad plight?

A ragged old crone;

Wandered past on her own;

Glanced my way, and then moved out of sight.

~0~

Two labourers slouched in a doorway,

Three boys played a game at their feet;

Then I smiled at the sound

Made by hooves on the ground.

As a carriage appeared in the street.

~0~

The doctor approached, as expected,

And knocked on my shabby front door.

I was ready, as planned;

Gun and ether in hand;

He stepped in, after knocking once more.

~0~

I stood with my cloth at the ready;

My moment of triumph, at last!

As he checked out the room,

I moved close, in the gloom...

Then the scene changed incredibly fast!

~0~

The doctor turned swiftly towards me;

I was gripped by two arms like a vice.

That ragged old crone,

In a soft, steel-edged tone,

Whispered," Drop it; I won't ask you twice."

~0~

I knew, straight away, I was beaten;

My plans for the future were shattered.

They'd ruined my fun;

I threw down my gun,

By the side of Holmes' skirts, where it clattered.

~0~

Holmes took off his flower trimmed bonnet,

His features were cold, grim and hard.

"This is how it must end

If you threaten my friend"

Then he called in two men from "The Yard".

~0~

* * *

><p><em>later...<em>

Tomorrow, I'm at the Old Bailey,

For the harm to the doctor I'd planned.

I am sure I'll do time

For my terrible crime,

But, I've earned some more lines in "The Strand".

~o~


	5. Mary

_a/n:prompt from DetectiveAtWork- Watson's POV on the death of Mary._

_ A villanelle._

* * *

><p><strong>Mary<strong>

* * *

><p>This house no longer feels much like a home to me;<p>

No gentle words, no loving smile to share.

Just silence fills the space where Mary's voice should be.

~o~

I try to fill my time, but hours stretch endlessly;

Each day is one more day she isn't there.

This house no longer feels much like a home to me.

~0~

Those last few days together haunt me constantly;

No answer to each desperate, heartfelt prayer;

Just silence fills the space where Mary's voice should be.

~0~

I turn the key and step inside so wearily,

And long to hear her footstep on the stair;

This house no longer feels much like a home to me.

~0~

I search for her in every treasured memory,

But find, although her touch is everywhere,

Just silence fills the space where Mary's voice should be.

~0~

I think about our future, planned so hopefully;

Those shattered dreams are more than I can bear.

This house no longer feels much like a home to me;

Just silence fills the space where Mary's voice should be.

~0~


	6. Snow

_a/n:my third prompt from DetectiveAtWork-snowing in London-_

_This one is a bit of an experiment and did not go quite in the direction I intended:-)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_POV of Watson_

* * *

><p><strong>Snow <strong>

* * *

><p>I button up my collar and I flex my stiffened shoulder and I strive to see my partner in the feeble light remaining.<p>

A busy day in clinic calls for slippers by the fire not a midnight jaunt through London; though I'm really not complaining.

~o~

It's raining.

~o~

I'd been home, perhaps five minutes, and was ready for my supper when my partner bustled in, and barked a hurried, harried greeting.

He requested my assistance in surveillance of a building. He suspected an alliance; an unholy villains' meeting.

~o~

Now it's sleeting.

~o~

So, abandoning hot supper and discarding cozy slippers, I took up my old revolver (and a sandwich from the larder).

As we headed out together, I was told in sketchy detail, of a stolen hoard of silver and a missing Scotland Yarder.

~o~

Sleeting harder.

~o~

I followed Holmes in silence; slipping softly through the shadows, though I really had no clue precisely who my friend was trailing.

I could sense his concentration as he tracked our quarry's movements; for the missing Scotland Yarder was the price he'd pay for failing.

~o~

It's hailing.

~o~

Now, I'm crouched behind some bushes while my partner checks the building; he's been gone for six long minutes and my apprehension's growing.

Do I wait until the signal, as my comrade has instructed? Or has Holmes encountered trouble? There's no easy way of knowing.

~o~

Now it's snowing.

~o~

One more minute, then I'll follow, if his signal fails to reach me. As I count each passing second, the suspense is agonizing.

A distant gunshot echoes through the whirling, swirling snowflakes; and I'm up and out and running. Fear for Holmes is galvanizing.

~o~

Storm is rising.

~o~

I hurtle through the entrance with revolver at the ready, I'm quite heedless of the danger; it's my comrade's fate which matters.

Holmes stands helplessly at gunpoint, as his captor pulls the trigger. And I bless my army training; roll and fire; his weapon shatters.

~o~

Blizzard batters.

~o~

Holmes ducks down, then dives to tackle the remaining, startled villain. I stand up and rub my shoulder (I'd forgotten it was aching.)

We release the bound inspector, and survey the missing silver. Soon the place is filled with Yarders; a successful undertaking.

~o~

Storm is breaking.

~o~

Danger over; Holmes regards me with a dry, amused expression; "Your grand entrance, my dear Watson, though quite late, was not displeasing."

I glare back, "Don't fault my timing! Next time act with greater caution!" But he knows I've got the message underneath his gentle teasing.

~o~

Storm is easing.

~o~

Task complete, we wander homeward through the sleeping streets of London. Snow is falling now, more gently; light as silk or swans down feather.

Breakfast, tea, a change of clothing and a blazing fire are waiting. One more case, in which we've proved that we're unbeatable, together.

~o~

Perfect weather.

~o~


	7. Angel

_a/n:prompt from Sui Generis Paroxysm-Angels and Demons-_

_This veers in a slightly fluffy direction._

_Thanks to Hades for a few ideas._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_POV of Holmes then Watson then Holmes then Watson then Holmes_

* * *

><p><strong>Angels and Demons<strong>

* * *

><p>"An angel on a Christmas tree?<p>

This really is too much!

I don't want yet another

Soft and sentimental touch!

There's holly by the cartload;

Mistletoe above the door.

I do not need a tree as well

To clutter up the floor!

What next? Some dancing paper fairies;

Strung along the wall?

I really don't want any

Festive frippery at all!"

~o~

"But, Holmes, I like the angel,

As does Mrs Hudson, too.

Regard her as a kindly spirit

Watching over you."

~o~

"Dear Watson, you appear to have

Abandoned reasoned thought

So far I've managed fine

Without such heavenly support.

Such stuff and nonsense! Why not

Put a demon there instead?

With cloven hooves and pointy tail,

And horns upon his head?"

~0~

"My friend, I see you're in

A rather disputatious mood.

There isn't any need to be

So arrogant and rude.

Consider, for a moment,

Some one else's point of view.

I've had a long and tiring day;

So, Holmes, good night to you!"

~0~

With that, the doctor glared and yawned,

Then climbed upstairs to bed.

Holmes smoked a while,

Then idly picked the angel up instead.

He thought of past adventure;

Long solved case and ancient crime.

And, most of all, the comrade

Who was with him, every time.

~0~

Break and enter? He'd be ready

With his tennis shoes and mask.

Stay in room with burning poison?

All he had to do was ask.

Hidden vigil by his bedside?

If required, he'd stand and wait.

Search for glowing hound on Dartmoor?

Not a chance he'd hesitate.

~0~

Holmes looked closely at the angel

Noticed harp and outstretched wings.

Of course, he had no time

For such unscientific things,

And clearly, guardian angels,

With a halo, seemed insane.

~0~

And yet… he could envisage one;

With Gladstone bag and cane.

~0~


	8. Loss

_a/n: prompt from Sui Generis Paroxysm: -loss-_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_A rondeau. Refers to "The Sign of the Four"_

* * *

><p><strong>Loss<strong>

* * *

><p>A pocket watch: a past concealed;<p>

Its features, closely studied, yield

A history from each commonplace,

Well-worn and battered mark and trace.

A brother's grief and loss revealed.

~o~

No fifty guinea watch can shield

The truth and nothing can replace

The words unsaid and wounds unhealed.

A pocket watch.

~o~

The power which drink and debt can wield

Ensured his brother's fate was sealed.

Four numbers, scratched inside the case,

Count down a tragic fall from grace.

Memento from a battlefield;

A pocket watch.

~0~


	9. Letter

_a/n: prompt from Aleine Skyfire-Holmes misses Watson in the Christmas of 1891-_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

><p><strong>Letter<strong>

* * *

><p>A<em> crate, to serve as table;<em>

_Lit by glowing candle light._

_A pen, a sheet of paper;_

_He sits down and starts to write..._

~o~

My Dear Watson,

Season's greetings,

Time to talk to you, again.

(Though sadly only two small

Stubs of candle still remain.)

I've many things to tell you

Of the places I have been

(And they're, oh, so very different

From that London fireside scene.)

~0~

I'm sure your house is full

Of holly, cards and mistletoe.

I wasn't really fond of all

That nonsense, as you know.

(And yet, in such a god forsaken,

Lonely place as this.

A touch of festive cheer, would not

Entirely go amiss)

~o~

And, Watson, such wild scenery;

Such animals and birds!

I'd like to see, old friend, just how

You'd put this into words.

I'm sure you'd use embellishments,

Romance and purple prose,

(Circumstance has made me

Much more tolerant of those.)

~o~

I am keeping fully occupied;

With research lines anew.

And yes; I'm eating properly;

(And sleep...an hour or two.)

~o~

My last two letters told you

Of the choice I had to make.

I hope you understand

The path I felt compelled to take

Baker Street, and those within,

Are often on my mind.

(What traveler leaves his sounding board

And whetstone, far behind?)

~o~

Send fond regards to Mary;

She'll be always at your side

I trust you'll think of me,

Just now and then,

This Christmastide.

~O~

_The candle dimmed and sputtered;_

_He stopped writing, sighed and stood._

_At moments such as these,_

_He'd turn the clock back, if he could._

_~o~_

_He read through what he'd written;_

_Then, like every one before,_

_This letter joined the others,_

_Torn in pieces, on the floor._

_~0~_


	10. Present

_a/n:Prompt from Poseidon-God of the Seas:-Colonel Moran has an unusual present-_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_Mention of events and references from "The Empty House". Colonel Moran may be a tiny bit OOC._

_Thanks to Anony9, for such kind reviews:-) (Private messaging is not the same as emailing.)_

_POV of Colonel Sebastian Moran-I hope the different forms of type do not cause to much confusion :-)_

* * *

><p><strong>Present<strong>

* * *

><p><em>A dark, dank, London prison<em>

_And a sparsely furnished cell._

_The warder brings a meager meal,_

_And something else, as well._

~o~

A parcel?

A package?

A present just for me?

But I'm without close relatives

And friends;

What could it be?

I haven't had a visitor,

Throughout my prison hell;

I cannot think of anyone

On Earth who'd wish me well.

~o~

It's quite a little package;

Wrapped up tight,

Secured in twine.

My name is written neatly on the label;

Yes, it's mine!

~o~

I've studied it,

I've shaken it,

It seems to be a book.

Perhaps a book on cards or tigers?

Time to take a look.

The gold and blue dust wrapper

Has a certain naive charm.

And here's the title; I've been sent...

**The Victorian Book of Calm.**

I can sense Holmes' mocking laughter,

As I turn the title page...

~o~

_A pause; the Colonel rips the book_

_In one mad fit of rage..._

~o~

Perhaps I've been too hasty;

I have never been so bored.

I'll try to sort the pages

So this book can be restored.

I'll piece the bits together,

Like a jigsaw, till I'm done.

I'll get some use from this small book;

Or Holmes will think he's won.

~0~

_A pause; the Colonel concentrates_

_On this painstaking deed._

_At last, Moran has finished;_

_Picks a page;_

_Begins to read._

~o~

**List all the thoughts which trouble you;**

**And some will fly away.**

Hmm...

Kill Holmes,

Kill Holmes,

Kill Holmes, right now!

Nope;

That thought is here to stay.

~o~

**Pink and blue are calming shades.**

Yes;

That one could be true.

Holmes turned, while I was strangling him,

A pleasing shade of blue.

~o~

**A nice hot bath will soothe your mind.**

Well, I suppose it could.

Although it did not do my lady victim

Any good.

Yes, poor old Mrs. Stewart;

Such a trusting, wealthy dame.

A tragic death from drowning;

With no proof to pin the blame.

~o~

**Articulate your problems**

**And you'll soon be nice and calm.**

"My problem is the hangman's noose."

I still feel great alarm.

~o~

**If you have had a stressful day;**

**Then turn out all the lights.**

That might work with my air gun

And the real Holmes in my sights.

~o~

**Find a happy thought, and laugh;**

**If needed, just pretend.**

False laughter should ensure a trip

To Bedlam, I contend.

~o~

**You'll feel much more contented**

**If you change your dull routine.**

Yes, right; I'll tell the warder

That I need a change of scene...

~0~

**Clear out all your clutter;**

**Watch your tension level fall.**

I only have a bed, and chair and blanket,

That is all!

~o~

This book has not been useful;

I'm not reading any more.

And yet...

There is a further use

It might be helpful for...

~o~

_Moran picks up the length of twine;_

_As hoped, it's tinder dry._

_He tears the book once more_

_And piles the little pieces high._

_With twine and wooden splinter,_

_Army skills and lots of time;_

_He perseveres until _

_A curling wisp begins to climb._

_Then, damp old prison blanket_

_And "The Victorian Book of Calm",_

_Ensure that smoke now billows out_

_And raises the alarm..._

_While prison staff attack the blaze,_

_He's vanished, in a trice._

_He takes one single page_

_Which holds some sensible advice_

~o~

**If you really need a way to get**

**Your tension levels down;**

**The countryside is calmer;**

**So, try hard to leave the town.**

~o~

* * *

><p><em>an 2: Mrs Stewart's death is mentioned in "The Empty House"_

_Inspiration for the present taken from "The Little Book of Calm" by Paul Wilson._


	11. Wrap

_a/n:prompt from Aleine Skyfire:-wrapping gifts-_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_POV of Watson_

* * *

><p><strong>Wrap<strong>

* * *

><p>Holmes, today we are going to wrap presents.<p>

You will help with the wrapping, this time.

You will not disappear

Like you do every year,

By inventing a crisis or crime.

~o~

It's a beautiful day to wrap presents;

Look outside, it's beginning to snow.

I've prepared everything,

Bought the paper and string,

And some ribbon for tying each bow.

~o~

It does not waste your time to wrap presents.

It's supposed to be festive and fun.

We can sit, my dear chap,

By the fireside and wrap;

And I'm hiding your pipe till it's done.

~o~

It will not dull your mind to wrap presents

And of course it won't damage your brain.

You can help with this task,

As I frequently ask,

Or you won't see your pipe rack again.

~o~

For Heaven's sake, Holmes, just wrap presents!

Please stop this ridiculous fuss!

It would mean such a lot

If you'd cut, tie and knot,

As these gifts aren't from me, but from us!

~o~

At last, you've agreed to wrap presents;

Sit down, by the fire, and we'll start.

And, of course, as before,

There's a knock on the door;

And it seems you must "swiftly depart".

~o~

So, I'm here on my own, wrapping presents;

I suspect you are laughing at me.

I'll get my own back,

As I still have that rack;

Which I've wrapped and placed under the tree.

~0~


	12. Barbary

_a/n:prompt from Scarper Gallywest:-A 221 B challenge, ending in the word "Barbary." This one caused much head scratching..._

_I have written this as two 221Bs, both ending in "Barbary", so have stretched the prompt a little:-)_

_221B format devised by KCS_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_POV of Watson_

* * *

><p><strong>Barbary<strong>

* * *

><p>My tale began this morning,<p>

When a young girl graced our hallway;

An enchanting maid, called Mabel, who was crying, noisily.

Holmes deduced her job and status

From the way she wore her bonnet,

Three small marks upon her day dress, and a scarf tied clumsily.

~0~

I gave her my clean hankie,

Holmes spoke random words of comfort;

She blew her pretty nose and thanked us both, most charmingly.

She would be forever grateful

If we helped her solve a puzzle;

Or a future spent in prison seemed a possibility.

~0~

This young maid was in deep trouble;

There had been the accusation,

That she'd stolen several pieces of expensive jewellery.

The items had gone missing

From the bedroom of her mistress,

When no-one else was working in such close proximity.

~0~

Holmes agreed we'd help poor Mabel,

So I fetched my old revolver,

And the maid took both our hands in hers and smiled most gratefully.

The day was warm and sunny,

As we took a cab through London;

Holmes in front beside the cabbie, and young Mabel next to me.

~0~

We approached the house in question;

An impressive park-side mansion;

The park, nearby, was buzzing with intense activity.

Even I could tell the reason,

As I read the circus poster:

"See the jugglers, clowns and tigers, and the ape from Barbary!"

~0~

Mabel led us round the corner

To the entrance used by servants;

Up three flights of narrow staircase, moving almost silently.

Mabel whispered that her mistress

Would be out in town all morning.

We should really take advantage of this opportunity

~0~

We tiptoed to the bedroom

Where the missing jewels had vanished

And I watched while Holmes examined every detail carefully:

Just a partly open window

Many floors above the pavement,

And a vial of Jasmine perfume, smashed and spilled, quite messily.

~0~

Holmes peered through the open window

At the circus far below him,

Smiled and studied three small scratches which were hidden, partially.

"I am absolutely certain

I can lead you to the culprit;

If you'll join me at the circus, we can end this rapidly."

~0~

With an air of great excitement,

We set off to join the circus,

Found some cages in the background, which we checked painstakingly.

When the scent of oil of Jasmine

Wafted gently from the corner,

Holmes announced "I'll get those jewels back, just you leave it up to me..."

~0~

Holmes is resting now, thank goodness,

Those deep scratches must be painful,

I'm delighted that his wounds are not as bad as they could be.

Our young client's very grateful,

And I've one new tale recorded:

"The Adventure of the Jasmine Scented Ape from Barbary".

~0~

* * *

><p><em>an2:While looking up a few alternatives for the use of the word Barbary; I discovered that the man appointed as Officer-in-charge-of-the-Apes, who looked after the Barbary apes of Gibraltar for 38 years, was a Sgt Alfred Holmes._

_That pleased me greatly:-)_

_I doubt it would have pleased Holmes..._


	13. Hug?

_a/n:prompt from Catherine Spark:-One incident that made each character hug someone._

_This is written as a play, all the titles and descriptions are part of the pattern of verse._

_This can stand alone; but is also a continuation of the tale written as "A Study in Drama"_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

><p><strong>Hug?<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>The Cast<strong>

_Sherlock Holmes- well respected detective_

_Doctor Watson-his tolerant friend_

_Lestrade and young Hopkins-the cream of the Yarders; defending the Law to the end._

_Mrs. Hudson-proud owner of Baker Street lodgings. A cook, friend and confidante, too._

_and_

_Elsie- the vengeful ex-bride of her nephew, and totally bad, through and through._

* * *

><p><strong>Act One<strong>

_Late one night, in the Baker Street kitchen; a stealthy small figure in black_

_Climbs in through the window, and heads for the larder; she carries a small linen sack._

_She's clearly intending some terrible mischief; another mass poisoning plan?_

_She jostles a plate, which disturbs Mrs. Hudson, who heads there as fast as she can._

_~0~_

_Mrs. H_-"Who on earth is invading my kitchen?

Mr. Holmes? Doctor Watson? Confess!

I hope you remember the last time I caught you;

You'd made such a terrible mess!

Let me see; oh, my Lord!

You're the mad, vengeful Elsie,

Who broke my young nephew's poor heart!

I thought we had dealt with the last of your scheming.

Get out of my kitchen, you tart!"

~0~

_She lunges at Elsie, who sidesteps her neatly, then slips on the fresh polished tiles._

_This gives Mrs. Hudson, the chance to move closer. Their squeals echo loudly for miles._

~0~

_Down seventeen steps stride detective and doctor; alarmed at the ear-splitting sound._

_They find Mrs. Hudson and Elsie, fists flying, and rolling around on the ground._

_The doctor grabs Elsie; Holmes grabs Mrs. Hudson; they're still flailing fists, left and right._

_They each hold their charge in a firm, tight embrace, determined to cut short the fight._

_~0~_

_Lestrade and young Hopkins both hear the commotion, rush in; their jaws drop at the door._

_They can see Doctor Watson, with Elsie beneath him; Mrs. Hudson and Holmes on the floor._

_~0~_

_Lestrade_-"Holmes you're held in the highest esteem;

Which this scene, in no way, has diminished.

We are souls of discretion, young Hopkins and I,

We'll go now, and come back when you've finished."

~0~

_Holmes (glares as he pins Mrs. Hudson's right arm)-_

_"_ Will you please take a sensible look?

That girl, under Watson, is Elsie; ex-bride.

She's attempting to murder our cook!"

~0~

_Lestrade (somewhat flustered)-"_I see what you mean.

Your actions are perfectly clear."

~0~

_Doctor Watson_-"Perhaps, you could save the small talk.

I require some assistance down here!"

~0~

_Lestrade and young Hopkins (with boyish moustache) untangle the limbs one by one._

_They then put the derbies, quite firmly, on Elsie; whose great plans of vengeance have gone._

_~0~_

_Mrs. H-_ "Now, young Hopkins, Inspector Lestrade;

What on earth did you think we were doing?

Did you really imagine a tiled kitchen floor

Was a suitable place for a wooing?"

~0~

_Young Hopkins (a blush spreading slowly)-__"_ I know.

I cannot excuse our mistake."

~0~

_Lestrade (also red)-"_we are terribly sorry.

A dreadful conclusion to take."

~0~

_Elsie_- "I'd hoped I could poison more puddings,

And send you all swiftly to Hell!"

_(She cursed Mrs. Hudson, detective and sidekick,_

_Lestrade and young Hopkins as well)_

"I'll never give up on my mad quest for vengeance;

I'll be there when you let down your guard!"

~0~

_For now, she would have to continue her plotting, while spending some time at the Yard._

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

_After some sleep and some breakfast; _

_Two Yarders appeared at the door;_

_With flowers and gifts, to appease Mrs. Hudson._

_They hoped she'd forgive them, once more._

_~0~_


	14. Encounter

_a/n:prompt from Agatha Doyle:-write about what it would be like if Holmes and Watson met Arthur Conan Doyle._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_POV of Dr. Arthur Conan Doyle_

* * *

><p><strong>Encounter<strong>

* * *

><p>Park bench:<p>

The doctor sits and waits.

He hopes they'll come this way;

And yet,

He hesitates.

~0~

He'd like

To clear all trace of doubt.

And see precisely

How his best loved

Work turned out.

~0~

He sees

A quite familiar pair.

He knows, of course,

He'd recognize them

Anywhere.

~0~

One man:

Hawk-eyed, incisive face.

Brisk walk;

Yet somehow matched to fit

His partner's pace.

-~0~

Eyes dart,

Absorbing all he sees.

Coiled spring,

Restraining untold strength,

With practiced ease.

~o~

Comrade;

Walks calmly at his side.

Takes in his partner's words,

And can't contain

His pride.

~0~

Left arm:

The joint a bullet wrecked.

And cane.

A second wound sustained?

He should have checked.

~o~

Right hand:

His most important role.

Touchstone;

The hint of steel

Belies a gentle soul.

~0~

They reach

The doctor's bench, at last.

He wonders what to say

Before

The moment's passed.

~o~

Eyes meet:

They nod; he tips his hat.

Their journey carries on.

He needs

No more than that.

~0~


	15. Blank

_a/n:prompt by Sui Generis Paroxysm :- Blank, empty, alone_

_Thanks and season's greetings to anonymous:-)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_Set during the Hiatus._

* * *

><p><strong>Blank<strong>

* * *

><p>The doctor sighs;<p>

Puts down his pen.

The blank pages

Remain pristine,

Unmarked,

Clear.

His writing;

Mary's presence;

Holmes' adventures:

How quickly

All cherished things

Can disappear.

~0~

All is still,

Calm, quiet

And empty.

Yet, sometimes,

If he tries,

He can almost

Catch sight

Of a written page;

Mary smiling;

Holmes arguing:

His fractured world,

All too briefly,

Put right.

~0~

Firelight dims:

Another day

Endured,

Almost over.

He pauses;

Recalls something

He has always

Known.

His writing

Honors

Mary's memory,

Holmes' legacy.

The doctor sighs;

Picks up his pen.

Filling blank pages;

He writes on

Alone.

~o~


	16. Drag

_a/n:prompt from Spockologist:-Holmes dresses in drag. (For the new movie of course!)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me_

_Speculation in the second part is based solely on a photo of Holmes, from the second film..._

* * *

><p><strong>Drag<strong>

_(canon version)_

* * *

><p>Everything's arranged<p>

With scientific accuracy;

Glassware is in order,

Tubes and brushes in a row.

Mirrors, placed precisely,

In the optimum position;

His eye for tiny detail,

Is impressively on show.

~o~

Razor is applied

With extra care and diligence:

Strong distracting contours

Are softened and diffused

Picking out a brush;

He applies a tone or shadow;

All his skill and artistry

Meticulously used.

~o~

Every single brushstroke

Reviewed, and closely analyzed.

Deeper pigments painted

Or a lighter tint prepared.

Edges blended perfectly;

Colours matched impeccably;

A masterpiece in progress

Multifaceted and layered.

~0~

Final vital touches;

Outfit chosen carefully;

Bodice buttoned modestly;

Everything in place.

Glides in to the sitting room,

Rustling layers of petticoats;

Curtsies low to Watson;

And "Miss" Holmes is on the case.

~0~

* * *

><p><em>or, perhaps...<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Drag-<strong>

_(recent movie version) _

* * *

><p>Rushes to the bedroom<p>

Finds a battered greasepaint box:

Drops the box and scatters

Half the contents on the floor.

Cannot find a mirror

(He doesn't need one anyway.)

Doesn't seem to care

What soap and razor blades are for.

~0~

Glances at the scattered pots;

Grabs a random handful:

Smears the paint on casually;

No forethought or finesse.

Adds a few more colours;

Cobalt and vermillion:

Hasn't heard the principle

That more is often less.

~o~

Puts the nearest outfit on;

Fastens buttons hurriedly;

Low immodest neckline;

Hopes it's all in place.

Rushes to the sitting room;

Tripping over petticoats;

Hugs a startled Watson.

And "Miss" Holmes is on the case.

~o~


	17. Humbug

_a/n: prompt from Poseidon - God of the Seas :- Holmes isn't impressed by the idea of Christmas. Can Watson convince him?-_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_(By the way, I would recommend reading an excellent variation on the Dickens theme, posted last Christmas by Stutley Constable- "a Holmsian Carol"-)_

* * *

><p><strong>Humbug<strong>

* * *

><p>"I cannot abide, my dear Watson,<p>

This time filled with fir trees and fuss.

I don't see why mistletoe, baubles and holly

Should have such an impact on us."

~0

"Dear Holmes, please remember," the doctor replied,

"It is one of my favorite seasons.

You value deduction and logical thought;

So, pray, tell me what are your reasons?"

~0~

"Well, presents, to start with, dear Watson;

A tradition defying good sense.

It is much more efficient to buy for yourself,

And save all that extra expense."

~0

"But Holmes, please consider", the doctor replied,

"A more generous purpose for living:

A person, content to think only of self,

Misses out on the great joy of giving."

~0~

"Next; carolers, Watson, I think you'll agree,

Are a tuneless and noisy creation.

The sound you might hear if you strangled a cat

Evokes the exact same sensation."

~0

"Dear Holmes, we should visit," the doctor replied,

"St Paul's; Christmas Eve; late at night.

If anything's going to alter your view;

That choir, and their music, just might."

~o~

"Christmas cards bother me, Watson,

With sickly sweet poems and prose:

I'd be grateful to get to the end of the year,

Without reading any of those."

~0

"Dear Holmes, you've forgotten," the doctor replied;

"There are many who live quite alone.

Would you really deny them a note of good cheer,

Which suggests that they're not on their own?"

~o~

"The clutter and trinkets, dear Watson,

The garlands and wreaths all around.

You know how I like to have everything neat,

So that papers and notes can be found."

~0

"Absolute nonsense!" the doctor replied.

"You were very untidy before.

You cannot blame Christmas for debris and mess

And the papers you've piled on the floor!"

~o~

The holidays, Watson, in general;

When routine and habit are lost.

Can often delay my response to a case,

And valuable time can be lost.

~0

"Are you actually saying," the doctor replied,

"That people should work every day?

I think you should read Mr. Dickens fine work;

You will find he has something to say."

~o~

"And finally, Watson, that angel,

You placed on the top of our tree.

I'm aware of the story behind it, but clearly

It means more to you than to me."

~0

"Think again, my dear fellow," the doctor replied.

We differ in outlook, that's true;

But the Christmastide message of peace, joy and hope

Can apply just as surely to you."

~o~

"You've argued quite well, my dear Watson,

I will study the matter some more.

It appears I should look a bit closer to learn

Precisely what Christmas is for."

~0

"That's as much as I'd hoped for," the doctor replied.

"I'm declaring a seasonal truce.

And I've noticed an aspect of which you approve;

How much have you had of that goose?"

~0~


	18. Back

_a/n: prompt from DetectiveAtWork:- Holmes thinks that he is going insane, Watson's trying to convince him he is not-_

_I may have stretched the prompt a little..._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_Reference to a scene in "The Adventure of the Devil's Foot". A 221B. (as devised by KCS)_

_POV of Holmes._

* * *

><p><strong>Back<strong>

* * *

><p>I light the lamp; he stays;<p>

And waits and watches, from his chair;

I tip the brown stained powder

From the envelope with care.

~0~

I hope to gain some insight

Which will help me solve this case.

This chance to learn the truth is worth

The risks we both might face.

~0~

A bleak, strange, apprehension

And a sense of dread and doom,

Build swiftly as a thick

And musky odour fills the room.

~0~

My neck hairs start to prickle,

And my hackles start to rise.

Sight and sound distort;

I cannot trust my ears and eyes.

~0~

Reasoned thought is shattered

And replaced with nameless fear.

Scientific certainty and logic

Disappear.

~0~

I'm aware, with rising horror,

All I value has been lost.

The knowledge I was seeking;

Came at far too high a cost.

~0~

The toxic fumes take over:

I can't move, or think, or see.

All present, past and future fears

Are pressing down on me.

~0~

A deep relentless terror

Claws and batters at my brain:

I try to gather scattered

Shreds of lucid thought in vain.

~0~

Then; blurred and frantic movement,

Leaves me reeling: in a daze,

I slowly raise my head,

And meet my partner's anxious gaze.

~0~

As sense and sanity return,

And thoughts reset on track;

I realize how much I owe

My friend; who watched my back.

~0~

* * *

><p><em>an 2: this follows on from a 221B entitled "breath", which is from Watson's POV, and posted in "Sound and Motion"._


	19. Snowing

_a/n:prompt from reflekshun:-snow-_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me_

_POV of Watson._

* * *

><p><strong>Snowing<strong>

* * *

><p>And still it snowed;<p>

He watched the flakes as the world turned white.

The doctor sighed;

At last, the end of his day in sight.

All patients seen;

Unless any late, extra calls appeared.

A chance to rest;

He could head for home, now his work had cleared

An urgent call;

The chance, instead, of a sleepless night.

~0~

His Gladstone bag;

His cane, of course, and a scarf wrapped tight.

He headed out;

With the fervent hope he could put things right.

The need to help;

It was helplessness, every doctor feared.

And still it snowed.

~0~

So close to death;

The chance he'd make any difference; slight.

A hopeless case;

He knew deep down he would lose this fight.

A battle lost;

Though he'd tried his best and had persevered

To ease all pain;

And to stay close by as the end had neared.

A long walk home;

A weary trudge in the morning light.

Too tired to care;

Or to feel the warmth as the sun shone bright.

And still it snowed.

~0~


	20. Hounded

_a/n:prompt from Catherine Spark :- A case involving someone believing they had a past_

_life-_

_Refers to "The Hound of the Baskervilles"_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me_

_POV of Watson_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Hounded<em>**

* * *

><p><em>I looked at Holmes, uncertainly; he hadn't said a word.<em>

_No comment as to what on earth had actually occurred._

_We'd journeyed home in silence on the early moorland train;_

_Both knowing we would never see a case like that again._

_And now, safe home in Baker Street, with sunshine blazing bright;_

_I wondered if he'd ever speak of what we'd seen that night..._

~o~

We'd headed out to Dartmoor

At the bidding of a friend:

Sir Henry Baskerville himself,

Had asked us to attend.

We traveled to his family home

Past old familiar ground;

Steeped in ancient memories

Of mire and moor and hound.

~o~

Sir Henry had been troubled

By a string of strange events:

Staff injuries, equipment lost,

Repeated accidents.

A harness snapped, a damaged wheel,

A well-loved horse gone lame.

Stored produce spoiled, an out house burned,

Bad luck? Or twisted game?

~o~

Our friend had been back home for months,

Restored, refreshed, quite well,

Recovered from his meeting with

That "giant hound from hell"

He'd hoped that he could settle;

And enjoy the peace and calm.

But now he was afraid that someone else

Might wish him harm.

~o~

The night before, a most unsettling

Incident occurred.

Sir Henry, crept downstairs

To check strange noises he had heard.

He shone his lantern round

The ancient gallery, and spied

The portrait of Sir Hugo

Neatly slashed, from side to side.

~o~

_(Sir Hugo, evil ancestor, worst Baskerville of all._

_Who'd led a cruel and wicked life inside his moorland hall._

_He stole a local maid away, and ran her to the ground;_

_And met his match upon the moor; a ghostly giant hound.)_

~o~

Holmes studied Hugo's portrait,

Every detail, every shred.

"Perhaps a show of anger at the life

Which he had led?"

He asked if he could talk

To every worker at the place;

And hoped, for Henry's sake,

That he could swiftly solve this case.

~o~

The workers lined up dutifully;

Prepared for interview;

The first; a pretty housemaid;

Deep brown eyes; flecked green and blue.

She answered every question;

Clearly spoken; sure and calm;

She could not think of anyone

Who wished Sir Henry harm.

~o~

Holmes gathered idle gossip,

Tittle tattle, speculation;

But not a scrap of accurate

And solid information

That night, we hid and watched

For more intruders in the hall;

Positioned near those family portraits

Hanging on the wall.

~o~

A noise; a window opened;

And a small, lithe form slipped out;

Approached the ruined portrait

Checked that no-one was about.

She lit a small white candle

Held it up against the frame,

Until Sir Hugo's face was lit

With growing, hungry flame.

~0~

Holmes sprang upon the figure;

Dashed the candle to the floor.

The flame revealed the features;

Of a girl we'd met before.

The young and pretty housemaid

We had seen at interview;

Now angry and quite shaken;

Brown eyes wide; flecked green and blue.

~o~

Fire extinguished, lantern lit,

No great damage; no great harm.

Holmes then quietly asked the maiden

Why she'd caused such great alarm.

Head held high, and brown eyes blazing;

She explained, she'd lived before,

She had been a yeoman's daughter,

Living here upon the moor.

~o~

She had been the tragic maiden,

Who had caught Sir Hugo's eye,

Carried off, and treated cruelly,

Hunted down and left to die.

Centuries on; returned to Dartmoor,

Back with Baskervilles at last.

Waited patiently and calmly

To avenge her tragic past.

~o~

Story told, she stood up meekly;

Sprang, and caught us both off guard

Twisted past, and down the hallway

Clothes a flying; running hard.

Holmes and I set off behind her;

Saw her head towards the moor.

Running in that maiden's footsteps

Who had fled long years before.

~0~

Holmes, at once, aroused the household;

Told Sir Henry what we'd found;

Main concern was fleeing housemaid

Out, at night, on treacherous ground.

Henry called for men and lanterns;

Headed out to search the moor.

Baskerville pursuing maiden

As in centuries before.

~o~

We joined the men, with lamps and horses;

Shaken by the night's events.

Stolen girl, reincarnated?

Tale defied all common sense.

Crumpled figure, in the distance,

Hurried forward, filled with dread

Body twisted, sprawled face downwards;

Broken neck: the girl was dead.

~o~

Silent party bore their burden

Down the dark, uneven track.

Distant sound: a mournful howling?

Not a single man looked back.

~0~

Later on, Holmes moved that painting;

Slashed across, and charred by flame.

Found another, smaller painting;

Quite unmarked, within the frame.

It was clear, this hidden painting

Was for centuries concealed.

Held it up, and moved the lantern

So that details were revealed.

~0~

Holmes exclaimed; I moved in closer;

Keen to see, what he had seen.

Saw a smiling moorland maiden,

Brown eyes wide; flecked blue and green.

~o~


	21. Hands

_a/n:prompt from Scarper Gallywest :- Sherlock Holmes has a recurring nightmare about his mother's hands._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_POV of Holmes._

* * *

><p><strong>Hands<strong>

* * *

><p>Hesitation:<p>

Strangely reluctant, despite the lateness of the hour, to call it a day and retire to bed.

Procrastination:

Read his papers, read them twice; envied the doctor; no doubt sleeping peacefully overhead.

~0~

Apprehension:

Usually applied to someone else, not to an emotion he now experienced every single night.

Comprehension:

Realized he could not go without sleep indefinitely; although if anyone might be able to do so; he might.

~0~

Trepidation:

Somehow; the few steps between sitting room and bedroom seemed such a long, difficult trip to make.

Resignation:

He would, however, have to move now; bearing in mind the scientific impossibility of forever staying awake.

~0~

Calculation:

How many nights had it been? Three weeks? A month? A long time to be dreading every moment of sleep.

Isolation:

This was his personal burden. An unshared nightmare. A secret he could see no other option than to keep.

~0~

Devastation:

He slept; drifted into his own past; a small boy at a bedside; holding his mother's hands as they grew cold, pale and still.

Perspiration:

Awake and bathed in sweat. Unsettled, unnerved and shaken. The early morning air had never seemed so chill.

~0~

Self-preservation:

Putting on a layer of indifference; he headed into the sitting room; barely noticing his friend sitting quietly there.

Conversation:

Only to be brought up short by his friend calmly announcing that until he told him what was bothering him, he wasn't going anywhere.

~0~

Disputation:

The doctor was, of course, overstepping the mark, interfering, jumping to conclusions and utterly and completely wrong.

Negotiation:

A few minutes of indignant silence over breakfast; then Holmes talked; as the doctor had known he would all along.

~0~

Communication:

The doctor listened in silence; hearing between the lines, picking up on the unspoken words; the unacknowledged heartbreak of the past.

Illumination:

Holmes discovered, to his astonishment, that sharing a burden with a friend can go a long way towards achieving a peaceful night's sleep, at last.

~0~


	22. Mulberry

_a/n:prompt from Reflekshun:-mulberry-_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

><p><strong>Mulberry<strong>

* * *

><p>On a cold and frosty morning; Holmes and Watson take a walk,<p>

Just a short perambulation; neither one inclined to talk.

Both enjoy the peace and quiet of this crisp and snowy day.

Both appreciate the chance to briefly cast their cares away.

Neither man is in a hurry; neither one intends to rush.

Dr Watson pauses briefly; stops beside a mulberry bush.

Holmes is in a playful mood, and gives his friend a gentle push.

~0~

Dr Watson staggers snow ward; not expecting this attack.

Recovers quickly, quite determined he will get his comrade back.

Cane can be a handy weapon; sweeps Holmes' feet from off the ground.

Holmes falls awkwardly, then rises; keen to start the second round.

Snow is useful, grabs a handful; starts a friendly snowball fight;

Friend retaliates quite quickly; direct hit, to his delight.

Shaking snow off face and collar; Holmes fires back with all his might.

~0~

Mulberry bush is useful shelter from the missiles flying fast;

Watson bides his time until the bulk of Holmes' offence is past.

Calculates the likely angle; shakes the branches vigorously

Snow drops down from tree to comrade; satisfying quantity.

Comrade splutters, glares at Watson; secretly he's quite impressed.

Picking fight with army veteran means he should expect the best.

Both now put snow battle tactics well and truly to the test.

~0~

Police inspector spots the duo; quite engrossed in snowy game;

Knows that given half the chance; he'd really like to do the same.

Those two men, now throwing snowballs; earned respect from Scotland Yard.

Men who work the hours that they do, sometimes need to play as hard.

May be in the depths of winter, when the world seemed dark and drear,

And they're overwhelmed with work which never seems to disappear

He can see the perfect way to lighten mood and bring good cheer;

~o~

Simply lean in close and whisper "Mulberry" in each partner's ear.

~o~


	23. Green

_a/n:prompt from MyelleWhite: - Green...lots and lots and LOTS of green-_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me_

_POV of a slightly ooc Watson (with an italicised bit from Holmes)_

* * *

><p><strong>Green<strong>

* * *

><p>A tree!<p>

Dear Holmes, we need a tree!

A lovely sparkly Christmas tree!

I love this festive frippery;

Please help me find the perfect tree,

To decorate two two one B!

~o~

The sparkliest tree there's ever been,

The best that anyone has seen.

Two trees perhaps?

And lots of green.

Yes, lots and lots and LOTS of green.

~o~

There's holly, fir and mistletoe

(A plant I like to wait below;

Because, of course, you never know.)

I'd hang the green on every wall,

I'd decorate the stairs and hall,

And you could watch me do it all.

~o~

And then our friends could come and see

Our hanging greens and lovely tree,

While Mrs. Hudson made them tea.

And we sang carols merrily.

Oh, Holmes, I really want a tree!

Please come and find a tree

With me.

A perfect, sparkly Christmas tree!

~0~

Come tree,

Go tree,

Yes tree,

No tree.

~0~

You do not want a tree at all?

And nothing green upon the wall?

No holly in the hall

At all?

You hate this festive frippery,

And will not contemplate a tree?

No mistletoe,

To stand below?

(So now, of course, I'll never know.)

An empty hall,

An empty wall,

No tree, no sparkly tree at all?

I feel unfestive, sad and small.

(And let a little teardrop fall.)

~0~

No sparkly tree

For you and me.

I'll cope;

I am your friend, you see.

Good night, dear Holmes, I'm off to bed;

I'll dream of sparkly trees instead.

(And wipe away the tear I shed)

~o~

_I do not want a tree; that's clear_

_I am not fond of Christmas cheer_

_But Watson is upset I fear_

_Was that?_

_Was that?_

_Was that a tear?_

~O~

Good morning Holmes!

I'm out of bed.

I dreamt about my tree instead.

But...

Holmes!

What's this?

What's this I see?

We have a lovely, sparkly tree!

And green...

There's lots and LOTS of green!

More green than I have ever seen!

Green on the wall,

Green in the hall

You've hung the green, you've hung it all!

You do like Christmas after all!

You've even hung the mistletoe

(Which I'll wait hopefully below)

And, Holmes, the tree!

The sparkly tree,

It's just as perfect as can be!

And, look!

The angel on the tree;

Holds Gladstone bag and cane,

Like me!

~0~

* * *

><p><em>an:I still am very fond of Dr Seuss and his rhyming patterns:-)_


	24. Bells

_a/n:prompt from Sui Generis Paroxysm:-tintinnabulations-_

_tintinnabulation-the ringing or sounding of bells_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me_

_Thanks again to anony9 for such kind reviews._

_A very Merry Christmas to all!_

_POV of Watson_

* * *

><p><strong>Bells<strong>

* * *

><p>Tintinnabulations:<p>

Trust Holmes to use that word;

Instead of simply mentioning

The peal of bells we'd heard.

I'm not sure where the time has gone;

The years have flown so fast:

I pause, recalling other bells

Which rang in days long past.

~0~

Goat bells;

A sound evocative of Afghan army days;

Mixed in with market chatter,

And with heat and dust and haze;

And the sense of not belonging

In a distant, troubled land.

The harsh routine of army life...

Maiwand.

~0~

Wedding bells;

A joyful sound; proclaiming far and wide

A simple marriage ceremony;

Mary at my side.

A day of such great happiness

Burns bright then disappears.

But memories sustain me through

Much darker, troubled years

~0~

Tibetan prayer bells;

Holmes described the depth and range of tone;

That winter, after Reichenbach;

A Christmas, all alone.

That Christmas I spent quietly

With my beloved wife.

My grief for Holmes soon balanced

By the promise of new life...

~o~

No peals rang out

One wintertime;

All bells were hushed and still:

The echoes in my empty house,

Which sound could never fill.

The days and nights merged endlessly,

When those I loved were gone.

A lonely future lay ahead

When three became just one.

~0~

The frantic doorbell ringing

Of an urgent, desperate case;

The journey through deserted streets

No clues to what I'd face.

The weary journey homeward;

Little chance to go to bed.

The start of yet another

Morning surgery instead.

~0~

Tintinnabulations:

Bells are ringing all around,

And even Holmes is brightened

By this tuneful, joyful sound.

Whatever this detective,

And close comrade, might believe.

He'll raise a glass to "Peace on Earth"

Upon this Christmas Eve.

~0~


	25. Company

_a/n:prompt from sagredo: - It is Watson's first Christmas without either Holmes or Mary._

_Does he spend it alone, or do some unlikely friends come to his aid?-_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me_

_POV of Watson; Christmas Eve_

* * *

><p><strong>Company<strong>

* * *

><p>He hears the final patient bid farewell and close the door;<p>

It's only half past eight; he'd hoped for several clients more.

As long as he is busy, useful, fully occupied;

He can, perhaps, forget who should be standing at his side.

He wishes his assistant all the best for Christmas day;

Then turns, and lets his calm physician's mask just fall away.

He hears the background chatter of the world outside his door;

Amazed that London life goes on exactly as before.

His grief has disconnected him from every day routine:

His current life; his hoped-for life; the chasm in between.

~0~

No Christmas decorations; not a hint of festive cheer;

No cause to celebrate, with those he loved no longer here.

~0~

Prescriptions checked, equipment cleared, a solitary meal.

A doctor who could not predict when wounds would start to heal

He sits, with stacks of BMJs, and reads by candle light;

Prepared, from past experience, for one more sleepless night.

He glances at two objects, put so carefully in place;

A blue-eyed smiling portrait and a battered silver case.

~0~

At midnight, there's a gentle, nervous tapping at the door;

He finds a group of urchins he's met many times before.

They tumble in; a jostling crowd of short humanity:

Young Wiggins tells the doctor that he needs their company.

They settle in his sitting room; on cushions, floor and chair;

Announcing they have stories they would really like to share.

They talk of Holmes adventures and the foes they helped defeat:

The doctor feels, for one short hour, he's back in Baker Street.

The urchins then head out; they leave a gift; a Christmas tree:

A branch, if truth be told; fir cones and rags, strung carefully.

~0~

Another hour; another knock; the door is opened wide:

Two Yarders, Hopkins and Lestrade, stand patiently outside.

They tell him, they were passing and they saw the candle light

And wondered if the doctor wanted company that night.

Invited in; they sit back with an offered drink in hand;

And recall those baffling cases which were published in "The Strand".

The doctor finds himself engrossed in familiar tales of old;

Those days when he had Holmes to help, and Mary's hand to hold.

An hour flies by; the Yarders stand to leave; just one thing more:

A slightly battered holly wreath to hang upon the door.

~0~

The doctor sleeps a little, waking up before the dawn;

And wonders how he'll fill a bleak and empty Christmas morn.

~o~

A knock; a stranger at the door; well dressed; smart hat and coat:

A covered basket in his hand; a neatly written note.

A Christmas lunch from Mycroft; freshly cooked, from his hotel.

A reminder there were others who were missing Holmes as well.

He thanks the man politely; puts the basket to one side;

Touched by this thoughtful gesture, on a lonely Christmastide.

~0~

And finally, mid morning, there is one more Christmas guest;

The faithful Mrs. Hudson, calm as always, warmly dressed.

She knows just what the doctor needs: a Christmas morning walk:

Sherlock Holmes and Mary Morstan; she can listen; he can talk.

And he does; they stroll together through the crisp clear winter frost

And he tells her how it's really been since both of them were lost.

His words at first are hesitant; this is not his usual role;

He's the one who calmly listens while another bares his soul.

He's the sidekick or physician, with a notebook in his hand;

Not the client, nor the patient; but begins to understand.

He remains the same John Watson; still in mourning; dignified;

But something, very slowly, is unknotting, deep inside.

~o~

There's no quick and easy method which will mend a broken heart;

He knows his friends are there to watch his back;

And that's a start.

~o~


	26. Jingle

_a/n:prompt from Poseidon - God of the Seas; - Inspector Lestrade tries to prosecute a fat,_

_bearded man for trespass. Ho ho ho!-_

_I may have got a bit carried away with this one :-)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_POV of Inspector G. Lestrade._

* * *

><p><strong>Jingle<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Lestrade could feel the stirrings of a headache;<em>

_He'd had about enough of Christmas Eve:_

_This notion of goodwill to man, though worthy,_

_Had not discouraged those who liked to burgle, fight and thieve._

_~0~_

_The prison cells were full and fit for bursting;_

_His men had all been working round the clock;_

_The paperwork was dull and time consuming;_

_He hoped at least a few they'd caught would end up in the dock._

_~0~_

_He didn't think he'd clear the work by morning;_

_So many forms to fill and notes to file._

_On top of which, he had this blasted headache!_

_He'd really like a moment just to sit and rest awhile…_

_~0~_

A constable, quite young and green and flustered;

Strode in, appearing strained, perplexed and tense.

"Inspector, Sir, I think we have a prisoner,

If trespass on a roof with sleigh and livestock's an offence."

~0~

Lestrade observed an officer behind him,

Who'd entered with a portly man in red;

His long white beard and hair were rather striking;

A brightly colored fur-lined cap was perched upon his head.

~0~

By now, his threatened headache was established;

Lestrade wished nothing more than time to rest;

Instead, he had a shift which seemed quite endless;

And a stranger from the rooftops who was quite bizarrely dressed.

~0~

He sighed, and moved to check this new arrival;

Who seemed to have an air of festive charm,

They'd put the derbies on him, just precaution,

He really did not seem the type to cause them any harm.

~o~

Lestrade demanded name and occupation;

The prisoner chuckled loudly, " Take your pick:

I'm Father Christmas, Santa Claus, Black Peter,

Or Pere Noel or you can use the shortened form, Saint Nick."

~o~

His temples throbbed and burned a little stronger;

A joker; this had really made his night!

He turned towards the eager, flustered rookie.

"I'd like to know precisely what report you're going to write."

~0~

"I was proceeding in a westerly direction;

When far above, beside a chimney stack,

I saw the crouching figure of a burglar;

I made that swift deduction as he held a bulging sack."

~o~

"I watched him make his way along the ridge tiles;

Then swing across and step from roof to roof.

He was clearly stealing items from each household;

We had to apprehend him (and his sack as burgling proof). "

~o~

"So, Hopkins, Smith and I got rope and ladder;

Climbed up, and had a careful look around.

We trailed him as he moved amongst the chimneys;

Although I wasn't keen on being this far from the ground."

~o~

"Behind one chimney stack, we found his transport;

A quite ornate and battered wooden sleigh.

We also found a group of harnessed reindeer;

Though how he'd got them on the roof I really couldn't say."

~o~

"We saw him silhouetted on the skyline;

Got out a coil of rope and laid our trap

We tethered sleigh and reindeer most securely,

Pounced quickly on our trespasser, tied up the portly chap."

~o~

"It took some time to get him down the ladder;

He smiled and sang and jingled all the way.

Young Hopkins stayed on duty on the roof top;

A ladder can't accommodate a reindeer herd and sleigh."

~o~

Lestrade considered carefully the story;

His headache; now relentless, filled his skull.

"A detail; if he's stealing from each household;

His sack should not be empty, as it is; it should be full."

~o~

"That's where the tale becomes quite complicated,"

The nervous rookie started to explain,

"He told us he delivers goods, not steals them,

And follows, every Christmas Eve, the same routine again."

~0~

The portly gentleman then interrupted.

"Yes, every single word I've said is true.

If I can't visit every single household;

Then Christmas present shortage will be wholly blamed on you."

~o~

Wonderful! His night was not improving;

A policeman's lot was underpaid and hard.

And now, to top it all, this man had threatened

That global disappointment would be down to Scotland Yard.

~o~

Lestrade was not a man to shirk his duty,

He knew the rules; the letter of the law.

"You'll stay here while we verify your story;

We'll keep you till your case is proved; I've seen your sort before."

~0~

"I don't give in to threats and accusations,

I cannot be corrupted, never could.

I'd rather risk that worldwide condemnation

Than fail to do my duty; is that clearly understood?"

~o~

The man in red moved forward smiling widely;

The derbies had completely disappeared.

"Your words and moral courage do you credit;

But bear in mind that sometimes things don't go the way you feared."

~o~

He softly called for Donner, Dancer, Blitzen;

For Cupid, Prancer, Comet; one and all;

For Dasher and a terrified young Hopkins,

(Who was holding on to Vixen, when the reindeer heard the call).

~o~

The sky was filled with shooting stars and rainbows;

A merry jingling sound was everywhere,

Lestrade and weary sidekicks, stopped and listened;

And high above, a reindeer sleigh came flying through the air.

~O~

It landed, with a flourish, on the cobbles;

A white and shaken Hopkins tumbled out;

Lestrade approached the lad to pat his shoulder;

He'd had a strange experience; no shadow of a doubt.

~o~

They watched the red-clad fellow greet his reindeer,

And place his empty sack back on the sleigh,

It instantly refilled with festive parcels;

A smile, a wave; and Father Christmas went his merry way...

~o~

_He raised his head, and rubbed his aching temples;_

_He'd slept, perhaps a minute; maybe two._

_His head was filled with jingle bells and reindeer;_

_And still a few more hours to go before his shift was through._

_~o~_

_He left his office, all was strangely quiet;_

_The bustle and the noise had all but gone._

_A few stray Yarders sat in conversation,_

_He hoped they could explain precisely what was going on._

_~o~_

_Young Hopkins rose to greet the puzzled Yarder;_

_He gave Lestrade a tired, triumphant grin._

_"The lads are up to date with all the cases;_

_All prisoners have been processed and all paperwork filled in."_

_~0~_

_Lestrade looked round in grateful comprehension;_

_The shift was not as bad as he had feared_

_He thought about those jingle bells and reindeer;_

_And wasn't too surprised to find his headache had now cleared._

_~o~_


	27. Gift

_a/n:prompt from sagredo - Holmes gets Watson a Christmas gift which he thinks is very __pedestrian, but Watson finds very moving. Holmes does not understand why he __seems so inordinately touched by the gift. What was this gift and what reason __does Watson give for why it means so much to him?_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_POV of Holmes then Holmes then Watson_

* * *

><p><strong>Gift<strong>

* * *

><p>A writing case: quite practical, and not too high a price;<p>

Brown paper and some ribbon to secure it will suffice.

I've done my Christmas duty; placed his gift beneath the tree;

Although I still remain unmoved by festive frippery.

I suspect he'll find it handy and will put it to good use,

He's there with pen and notepad at the flimsiest excuse.

~0~

A writing case: he is, it seems, quite speechless at the sight;

I've never bought a gift which caused such evident delight.

He's studying each detail with such joy upon his face;

You'd think he'd never seen before a proper leather case.

Assorted drawers and pockets filled with paper, pen and ink

Are clearly more desirable than anyone would think.

~0~

A writing case: I can't believe how perfect this could be;

It's hard to say precisely what this present means to me.

My passion is my writing; and this gesture clearly shows,

Despite his caustic comments on my "too romantic prose";

That, somewhere under layers of proud, impenetrable hide,

He more than tolerates a Boswell, scribbling at his side.

~0~


	28. Gong

_a/n:prompt from reflekshun:-gong-_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_Tibet is about seven hours ahead of London; this takes place, therefore, at midnight in London and 7 am in Tibet on Christmas day 1891_

_A bit of an experiment..._

_Watson and Holmes alternate lines; Holmes in brackets._

* * *

><p><strong>Gong<strong>

* * *

><p>Watson closed his eyes and let the laughter and the music of the party fade away.<p>

_(Holmes opened his eyes as the sun streamed in from the mountains at the start of another day.)_

_~0~_

His thumb traced the contours of the silver cigarette case he still carried everywhere.

_(He let the scraps of never-to-be-sent letters slip through his fingers and scatter in the crisp cold air)._

_~0~_

Despite the presence of his close friends and colleagues, he felt completely on his own.

_(He could hear the herdsmen, livestock and children outside his window, yet was utterly alone)._

_~0~_

His melancholic thoughts were interrupted by Mary's hand on his shoulder; she knew who was on his mind.

_(He gazed across the mountains and the sky beyond and away from those __he had left behind)._

_~0~_

The sound of a gong reverberated through the house, summoning all to supper. It was time to move on.

_(The sound of a gong reverberated through the valley, summoning all to prayer. It was time to move on)._

_~0~_

He knew

_(He knew.)_

_~0~_

Given time,

_(Given space)_

_~0~_

And Mary

_(And distractions.)_

_~0~_

The ache would ease,

_(The emptiness would end.)_

_~0~_

He raised a glass.

_(He lowered his head.)_

_~0~_

"I miss you, old friend."

_("I miss you, old friend.")_

_~0~_


	29. Wreath

_a/n:prompt from reflekshun:-wreath-_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_POV of Holmes_

* * *

><p><strong>Wreath<strong>

* * *

><p>Watson's present:<p>

I've noted down full details of the steps to take.

A Christmas wreath;

It really does not seem to be too hard to make.

"Step one: the base:

Twist young hazel boughs into a pleasing loop."

No hazel here;

I'll use the fireside poker twisted in a steely hoop.

"Then greenery;

Tradition uses holly leaves or bay or even yew."

None in the house,

This aspidistra, and these dried tobacco leaves will do.

"A flourish next;

A bright red ribbon tied and draped and placed just so."

Now, let me think;

I'll use this handy length of hangman's rope, tied in a bow.

"The final touch;

Fir cones, berries, nuts and fruit arranged with loving care."

Perhaps, instead;

Crystals, skulls, a picklock and some test tubes can go there.

I think it's done;

I hope this festive wreath will please my close associate and friend.

In any case;

I do believe the thought is what most matters in the end.

And even if

My friend protests that this is not how wreaths should be;

He'll know for sure

That this one is, without a doubt, from me.

~0~


	30. Dream

_a/n:prompt from MyelleWhite: - Holmes wakes from a dream to find Watson was never real at __all. He had just been in a very vivid dream...his reaction could be either __sorrow or disbelief... (but do not mix them...have fun with that_ LOL)-

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_Thanks to anonymous for very kind reviews:)_

_And wishing everyone a very happy new year._

_POV of Holmes._

* * *

><p><strong>Dream<strong>

* * *

><p>Hooves were striking cobbles as another day was starting;<p>

He woke and stretched contentedly and got up out of bed.

A quiet day was planned, to follow yesterday's excitement.

He'd have a word with Watson, and discuss the day ahead.

A clatter: Mrs. Hudson with the breakfast tray approaching?

But no: an unexpected, old familiar sound instead.

~o~

The crashing of a breakfast tray, a cry of sheer frustration;

A loud and angry swearing then the slamming of a door.

Holmes shivered as he studied his immediate surroundings;

And recognized a room he'd lived in many years before.

Montague, not Baker Street, his past unpleasant lodgings;

The rooms he could have sworn he'd left ten years ago, or more!

~0~

But where was Mrs. Hudson? And where on earth was Watson?

And what about the bullet riddled letters on the wall?

And what about the butter dish, pipe rack and Persian slipper?

And the desk with pens and journals where his flat mate liked to scrawl?

And where were all his letters, pinned to mantelpiece with jack knife?

And who had moved the cane and bag, which should be in the hall?

~0~

Why wasn't he in Baker Street? His home had simply vanished;

He'd lost the last ten years or so, he did not understand.

A shrewish rent collector had replaced dear Mrs. Hudson;

No friend to share adventures with, no copies of "The Strand"

No cozy fire side chairs where two could smoke and talk together.

His life was not progressing in the way which he had planned.

~0~

He caught his own reflection, as he passed a hallway mirror,

He glanced, then did a double take, considered what he'd seen

He looked a good deal younger than he really had expected.

As though the years at Baker Street had never really been.

He'd lived here once, then found the ideal partnership and lodgings;

But something odd had happened to the decade in between.

~o~

He stood, quite deep in thought as he reviewed the implications,

Still shaken by the notion that his closest friend had gone.

Eliminating options as he reached a sad conclusion;

The only explanation as to what was going on.

He'd dreamt the whole scenario of Baker Street and Watson,

And this, in fact, was still the year of eighteen eighty one.

~o~

Now what? The chance to build a brand new, better, brighter future?

The perfect opportunity? A different hand to play?

And yet...the local paper: "flat in Baker Street for renting";

The weekly rate seemed reasonable for two, perhaps, to pay.

He'd have a word with Stamford, and head out to study bloodstains;

And listen for a limping tread which might just pass his way...

~0~


	31. Resolutions

_a/n: prompt from Agatha Doyle :- Write about Holmes and Watson's New Year's resolutions-_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me. _

_Thanks to all who have read, or read and reviewed these challenge responses. I am really sad to reach the end of the series; it has been a real pleasure to take part, I did not think I would manage to stick to verse all the way through:-)_

_A huge thank you to Hades and Spockologist for such a wonderful idea__:-)_

_Happy New Year to you all!_

* * *

><p><strong>Resolutions<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Baker Street;<em>

_It's almost midnight;_

_A new year waiting to begin._

_Two old friends beside the fire;_

_One puts down his violin;_

_He waves a creased and crumpled note;_

_Unfolds the paper carefully._

_"I've made a list of resolutions;_

_For everybody else; but me..."_

~0~

Clients

~0~

If you'd like to be the client

In a great detective story.

Keep this single resolution;

Guaranteeing fame and glory.

Judging by the tales I've witnessed,

Stick to this quite clear advice:

If a choice of jobs is offered;

Take the one with highest price.

If forty pounds is what you'd hoped for,

And you're offered four times more;

Take that offer, don't consider

What the extra fee is for.

Midnight trips to fix hydraulics,

Plans to get your hair cut short,

Dictionary words to copy,

(Don't give this a second thought.)

Men with beards will track your movements;

You'll get mystery trips by carriage;

You may even get a bonus,

Somewhat unexpected, marriage.

~0~

However, if you'd like to keep your thumb,

And want a life more down to earth;

Resolve to take a job which offers

Precisely what you know you're worth.

~0~

Yarders

~0~

If you pound the streets of London;

Working as a Scotland Yarder;

Keeping me from taking part,

Will make your job a whole lot harder.

Resolve to treat me with respect;

Give me all the help I need.

Bear in mind that where you lose,

I, quite often, still succeed.

Let me test my whip on corpses,

Let me view each murder scene.

Don't let others get too close;

Keep every single clue pristine.

Don't expect great praise or fanfare,

If at times you get it right.

I may be rude and quite sarcastic;

(A cause of long sustained delight.)

~o~

Don't attempt to be too clever;

I'll be several steps ahead.

Keep your head and keep your temper

And I may credit you, instead.

~0~

Watson

~0~

My dearest Watson, keep at hand

Your army weapon all the time.

And don't resort to blackmail so that

You can help commit a crime.

Always keep spare shirt and toothbrush

Ready, should the need arise

And, when recording in your journal;

Facts please; don't romanticize.

Resolve to drag me out of trouble

If my plans become unstuck.

If you're faced with Killer Evans;

Next time, my dear fellow; duck!

If an urgent note presents

Please join me promptly, anywhere;

Even if the urgent need

Is simply that I'd like you there.

Attend at once when you are summoned,

Believe whatever scene you find.

Forgive me when I take advantage

Of your loyal, trusting mind.

~0~

Look impressed at my deductions

Never lose your sense of awe

And never stop reminding me

Precisely what a comrade's for.

~o~

_Baker Street_

_Just after midnight_

_A brand new year has just begun._

_Watson smiles at friend and partner;_

_"You've nearly covered_

_Everyone._

_Allow me to complete the picture;_

_I've written resolutions, too._

_Mine, of course, dear friend and partner_

_Apply directly just to you."_

~o~

Holmes

~0~

Resolve to carefully consider

How your schemes affect your friend.

Would it hurt to keep me posted

Well before you reach the end?

Please don't send me word you're dying

Just to reinforce a trap.

This will stretch my tolerant nature

To its limits, my dear chap.

Don't assume I have a locum

Ready when you come to call.

Don't assume my patients matter

Not the slightest bit at all.

Please resolve to be polite

When summoning me to a case.

Don't assume I'll be prepared

To join you, any time and place.

If you send me back to Dartmoor,

Don't pretend you've stayed behind

While you choose a hut to live in,

Waiting there for me to find.

Please don't fake your death again;

Once was quite enough for me.

Please resolve to stop and think

What consequences there might be.

Do not even dream of taking

Risks entirely on your own.

I will never be the type

To let you face a foe alone.

Please don't dismiss important things

Which science and logic can't explain.

And don't forget, of course I've glimpsed

The heart you have, to match your brain.

~o~

And, lastly, there's the written word;

Resolve to try and understand

Just why I write adventures down

And get them published in "The Strand."

~0~

_The firelight flickers round the room_

_As old friends raise their glasses high_

_In homage to the brand new year_

_And tales they know will never die._

~0~


End file.
